The Vineyards Of Calanetti
“Pass the bank of elevators we used to get to the condo I showed you and turn right. I’ll send my elevator down for you.”
“Don’t I need a key?”
“I’ll set it to return. You just get in.”
She did as he said, walking past the first set of elevators and turning to find the one for the penthouse. She stepped through the open doors and they swished closed behind her.
Riding up in the elevator with its modern gray geometric-print wallpaper and black slate floors, she was suddenly overwhelmed by something she hadn’t considered, but should have guessed.
Rafe was a wealthy man.
Watching the doors open to an absolutely breathtaking home, she tried to wrap her brain around this new facet of Rafe Mancini. He wasn’t just sexy, talented and mercurial. He was rich.
And she was about to yell at him? She, who’d always been poor? Always three paychecks away from homelessness? She’d never, ever considered that maybe the reason he didn’t think anything permanent would happen between them might be because they were so different. They lived in two different countries. They had two different belief systems. And now she was seeing they came from two totally different worlds.
Rafe walked around a corner, holding two glasses of wine.
“Chianti.” He handed one to her and motioned to the black leather sofa in front of a stacked stone fireplace in the sitting area.
Unable to help herself, she glanced around, trepidation filling her. Big windows in the back showcased the winking lights of the village. The black chairs around a long black dining room table had white upholstered backs and cushions. Plush geometric-patterned rugs sat on almost-black hardwood floors. The paintings on the pale gray walls looked ancient—valuable.
It was the home of a wealthy, wealthy man.
“Daniella?”
And maybe that’s why he thought he could influence her with money? Because she came from nothing.
That made her even angrier.
She straightened her shoulders, caught his gaze. “Are you trying to buy me off?”
“Buy you off?”
“Get me to stop saying no to a relationship by bribing me with a big, fat salary?”
He laughed and fell to the black sofa. “Surely this is a first. An employee who complains about too much money.” He shook his head with another laugh. “You said you wanted to be compensated for relocating. You said you wanted to be general manager. That is what a general manager makes.”
“Oh.” White-hot waves of heat suffused her. Up until this very second, everything that happened with reference to her job at Mancini’s had been fun or challenging. He pushed. She pushed back. He wanted her for his restaurant. She made demands. But holding the check, hearing his explanation, everything took on a reality that had somehow eluded her. She was general manager of a restaurant. This was her salary.
He patted the sofa. “Come. Sit.”
She took a few steps toward the sofa, but the lights of the village caught her attention and the feeling of being Alice in Wonderland swept through her.
“I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d make this much money.”
“Well, teachers are notoriously underpaid in America, and though you’d studied a few things that might have steered you to a more lucrative profession, you chose to be a teacher.”
Her head snapped up and she turned to face him. “How do you know?”
He batted a hand. “Do I look like an idiot? Not only did I do due diligence in investigating your work history, but also I took a look at your college transcripts. Do you really think I would have given you such an important job if you didn’t have at least one university course in accounting?”
“No.” Her gaze on him, she sat on the far edge of the sofa.
His voice became soft, indulgent. “Perhaps in the jumble of everything that’s been happening I did not make myself clear. I’ve told you that I intend to be one of the most renowned chefs in Europe. I can’t do that from one restaurant outside an obscure Tuscan village. My next restaurant will be in Rome. The next in Paris. The next in London. I will build slowly, but I will build.”
“You’d leave Mancini’s?” Oddly, the thought actually made her feel better.
“I will leave Mancini’s in Tuscany when I move to Rome to build Mancini’s Rome.” He frowned. “I thought I told you this.” His frown deepened. “I know for sure I told you that Mancini’s was only a stepping stone.”
“You might have mentioned it.” But she’d forgotten. She forgot everything but her attraction to him when he was around. She’d accused him of using promotions to cover his feelings for her. But she’d used her feelings for him to block what was really going on with her job, and now, here she was, in a job so wonderful she thought she might faint from the joy of it.
“With you in place I can move to the next phase of my business plan. But there’s a better reason for me to move on. You and I both worry that if we do something about our attraction, you will be hurt when it ends and Mancini’s will lose you.” He smiled. “So I fix.”
“You fix?”
“I leave. Once I start my second restaurant, you will not have to deal with me on a day-to-day basis.” His smile grew. “And we will understand each other because we’ll both work in the same demanding profession. You will understand if I cancel plans at the last minute.”
This time the heat that rained down on her had nothing to do with embarrassment. He’d really thought this through. Like a man willing to shift a few things because he liked her.
“Oh.”
“There are catches.”
Her gaze jumped to his. “Catches?”
“Yes. I will be using you for help creating the other restaurants. To scout sites. To hire staff. To teach them how to create our atmosphere. That is your real talent.” He held her gaze. “That is also why your salary is so high. You are a big part of Mancini’s success. You created that atmosphere. I want it not just in one restaurant, but all of them, and you will help me get it.”
The foster child taught not to expect much out of life, the little girl who learned manners only by mimicking what she saw in school, the Italian tourist who borrowed Louisa’s clothes and felt as though she was playing dress up every day she got ready for work, that girl quivered with happiness at the compliment.
The woman who’d been warned by him that he would hurt her struggled with fear.
“You didn’t just create a great job for me. You cleared the way for us to have an affair.”
Rafe sighed. “Why are you so surprised? You’re beautiful. You’re funny. You make me feel better about myself. My life. Yes, I want you. So I figured out a way I could have you.”
She sucked in a breath. It was heady stuff to see the lengths he was willing to go to be with her. And she also saw the one thing he wasn’t saying.
“You like me.”
“What did you think? That I’d agonize this much over someone I just wanted to sleep with?”
She smiled. “You agonized?”
He batted a hand in dismissal. “You’re a confusing woman, Daniella.”
“And you’ve gone to some pretty great lengths to make sure we can...see each other.”
His face turned down into his handsome pout. “And you should appreciate it.”
She did. She just didn’t know how to handle it.
“Is it so hard to believe I genuinely like you?”
“No.” She just never expected he would say it. But he said it easily. And the day would probably come when those feelings would expand. He truly liked her and she was so in love with him that her head spun. This was not going to be an affair. He was talking about a relationship.
Happiness overwhelmed her and she couldn’t resist. She set her wineglass on the coffee table and scooted beside him.
* * *
A warm, syrupy feeling slid through Rafe. But on its heels was the glorious ping of arousal. Before he realized what she was about to do, she kissed him. Quick and sweet, her lips met his. When she went to pull back, he slid his hand across her lower back and hauled her to him. He deepened their kiss, using his tongue to tempt her. Nibbling her lips. Opening his mouth over hers until she responded with the kind of passion he’d always known lived in her heart.
He pulled away. “You play with fire.”
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Temptation roared through him and all his good intentions to take it slowly with her melted like snow in April. He could have her now. In this minute. He could take what he greedily wanted.
She drew a breath. “How is it playing with fire if we really, really like each other?”
She was killing him. Sitting so warm and sweet beside him, tempting him with what he wanted before she was ready.
Still, though it pained him, he knew the right thing to do.
“So we will do this right. When you are ready, when you trust me, we will take the next step.”
Her gaze held his. “When I trust you?”
“Sì. When I feel you trust me enough to understand why we can be lovers, you will come to my bed.”
Her face scrunched as she seemed to think all that through. “Wait...this is just about becoming lovers?”
“Yes.”
“But you just said you wouldn’t worry that much about someone you wanted to sleep with.” She caught his gaze. “You said you agonized.”
“Because we will not be a one-night stand. We will be lovers. Besides, I told you. I don’t do relationships.”
“You also said that you’d never have a romance with an employee.” She met his gaze. “But you changed that rule.”
“I made accommodations. I made everything work.”
“Not for me! I don’t just want a fling! I want something that’s going to last.”
His eyebrows rose. “Something that will last?” He frowned. “Forever?”
“Forever!”
“I tried forever. It did not work for me.”
“You tried?”
“Sì.”
“And?”
“And it ended badly.” He couldn’t bring himself to explain that he’d been shattered, that he’d almost given up his dream for a woman who had left him, that he’d been a ball of pain and confusion until he pulled himself together and realized his dreams depended on him not trusting another woman with his heart or so much of his life.
“Cara, marriage is for other people. It’s full of all kinds of things incompatible with the man I have to be to be a success.”
“You never want to get married?”
“No!” He tossed his hands. “What I have been saying all along? Do you not listen?”
She stood up. The pain on her face cut through him like a knife. Though he suddenly wondered why. He’d always known she wanted security. He’d always known he couldn’t give it to her. He couldn’t believe he’d actually tried to get her to accept less than what she needed.
He rose, too. “Okay, let’s forget this conversation happened. It’s been a long day. I’m tired. I also clearly misinterpreted things. Come to Mancini’s tomorrow as general manager.”
She took two steps back. “You’re going to keep me, even though I won’t sleep with you?”
“Yes.” But the sadness that filled him confused him. He’d had other women tell him no and he’d walked away unconcerned. Her no felt like the last page of a favorite book, the end of something he didn’t want to see end. And yet he knew she couldn’t live with his terms and he couldn’t live with hers.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AGREEING THAT HE was right about at least one thing—she was too tired, too spent, to continue this discussion—Dani walked to the elevator. He followed her, hit the button that would close the door and turned away.
She sucked in a breath and tried to still her hammering heart. But it was no use. They really couldn’t find a middle ground. It was sweet that he’d tried, but it was just another painful reminder that she had fallen in love with the wrong man.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d be okay—
No, she wouldn’t. She’d fallen in love with him. Unless he really stayed out of Mancini’s, she’d always be in love with him. Then she’d spend her life wishing he could fall for her, too. Or maybe one day she’d succumb. She’d want him so much she’d forget everything else, and she’d start the affair he wanted. With the strength of her feelings, that would seal the deal for her. She’d love him forever. Then she’d never have a home. Never have a family. Always be alone.
She thought of the plane ticket tucked away somewhere in her bedroom in Louisa’s house. Now that she knew he wanted nothing but an affair, which was unacceptable, she could go home.
But she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to run Mancini’s. He’d handed her the opportunity with her general managership—
And he was leaving. Maybe not permanently, but for the next several years he wouldn’t be around every day. Most of the time, he’d be in other cities, opening new restaurants.
Wouldn’t she be a fool to leave now? Especially since she had a few days before she had to use that ticket. Maybe the wise thing to do would be to use this time to figure out if she could handle working with him as the boss she only saw a few times a month?
The next day when she walked in the door and felt the usual surge of rightness, she knew the job was worth fighting for. In her wildest dreams she’d never envisioned herself successful. Competent, making a living, getting a decent apartment? Yes. But never as one of the people at the top. Hiring employees. Creating atmosphere. Would she really let some feelings, one man, steal this from her?
No! No! She’d been searching for something her entire life. She believed she’d found it at Mancini’s. It would take more than unrequited love to scare her away from that.
When Emory sat down with her in between lunch and dinner and showed her the human resources software, more of the things she’d learned in her university classes tumbled back.
“So I’ll be doing all the admin?”
Emory nodded. “With Rafe gone, setting up Mancini’s Rome, I’ll be doing all the cooking. I won’t have time to help.”
“That’s fine.” She studied the software on the screen, simple stuff, really. Basically, it would do the accounting for her. And the rest? It was all common sense. Ordering. Managing the dining room. Hiring staff.
He squeezed her hand. “You and me...we make a good team.”
Her smile grew and her heart lightened. She loved Emory.
Even tempered with the staff and well acquainted with Rafe’s recipes, he was the perfect chef. As long as Rafe wasn’t around, she would be living her dream.
She returned his hand squeeze. “Yeah. We do.”
When she and Emory were nearly finished going over the software programs, Rafe walked into the office. As always when he was around, she tingled. But knowing this was one of the things she was going to have to deal with, because he wasn’t going away permanently, she simply ignored it.
“Have you taught her payroll?”
Emory rose from his seat. “Yes. In fact, she explained a thing or two to me.”
Rafe frowned. “How so?”
“She understands the software. I’m a chef. I do not.”
Dani also rose from her chair. “I’ve worked with software before to record grades. Essentially, most spreadsheet programs run on the same type of system, the same theories. My boyfriend—” She stopped when the word boyfriend caught in her throat. Emory’s gaze slid over to her. But Rafe’s eyes narrowed.
She took a slow, calming breath. “My ex-boyfriend Paul is a computer genius. I picked up a few things from him.”
Rafe turned away. “Well, let us be glad for him, then.”
He said the words calmly, but Dani heard the tension in his voice. There were feelings there. Not just lust. So it wouldn’t be only her own feelings she’d be fighting. She’d also have to be able to handle his. And that might be a little trickier.
“I’ve been in touch with a Realtor in Rome. I go to see buildings tomorrow.”
A look passed between him and Emory.
Emory tucked the software manual into the bottom bin of an in basket. “Good. It’s time to get your second restaurant up and running.” He slid from behind the desk. “But right now I have to supervise dinner.”
He scampered out of the room and Rafe’s gaze roamed over to hers again. “I’d like for you to come to Rome with me.”
Heat suffused her and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Me?”
“I want you to help me scout locations.”
“Really?”
“I told you. You are the one who created the atmosphere of this Mancini’s. If I want to re-create it, I think you need to be in on choosing the site.”
Because that made sense and because she did have to learn to deal with him as a boss, owner of the restaurant for which she worked, she tucked away any inappropriate longings and smiled. “Okay.”
She could be all business because that’s what really worked for them.
* * *
The next day, after walking through an old, run-down building with their Realtor, Rafe and Dani stepped out into the bright end-of-February day.
“I could do with a coffee right now.”
He glanced at her. In her sapphire-blue coat and white mittens, she looked cuddly, huggable. And very, very, very off-limits. Her smiles had been cool. Her conversations stilted. But she’d warmed up a bit when they actually began looking at buildings.
“Haven’t you already had two cups of coffee?”
She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, like a friend or a cousin, someone allowed innocent, meaningless touches.
“Don’t most Italians drink something like five cups a day?”
When he said, “Bah,” she laughed.
All morning, their conversation at his apartment two nights ago had played over and over and over in his head. She wanted a commitment and he didn’t. So he’d figured out a way they could be lovers and work together and she’d rejected it. He’d had to accept that.
But being with her this morning, without actually being allowed to touch her or even contemplate kissing her was making him think all kinds of insane things. Like how empty his life was. How much he would miss her when he stopped working at the original Mancini’s and headquartered himself in Rome.
So though he knew her hand at his elbow meant nothing, he savored the simple gesture. It was a safe, nonthreatening way to touch her and have her touch him. Even if he did know it would lead to nothing.
“Besides, I love coffee. It makes me warm inside.”
“True. And it is cold.” He slid his arm around her shoulders. Her thick coat might keep her toasty, but it was another excuse to touch her.
They continued down the quiet street, but as they approached a shop specializing in infant clothing, the wheels of a baby stroller came flying out the door and straight for Daniella’s leg. He caught her before she could as much as wobble and shifted her out of the way.
The apologetic mom said, “Scusi!”
Dani laughed. In flawless Italian she said, “No harm done.” Then she bent and chucked the chin of the baby inside the stroller. “Isn’t she adorable!”
The proud mom beamed. Rafe stole a quiet look at the kid and his lips involuntarily rose as a chuckle rumbled up from the deepest part of him. “She likes somebody’s cooking.”
The mom explained that the baby had her father’s love of all things sweet, but Rafe’s gaze stayed on the baby. She’d caught his eye and cooed at him, her voice a soft sound, almost a purr, and her eyes as shiny as a harvest moon.
A funny feeling invaded his chest.
Dani gave the baby a big, noisy kiss on the cheek, said goodbye to the mom and took his arm so they could resume their walk down the street.
They ducked into a coffeehouse and she inhaled deeply. “Mmm...this reminds me of being back in the States.”
He shook his head. “You Americans. You copy the idea of a coffeehouse from us, then come over here and act like we must meet your standards.”
With a laugh, she ordered two cups of coffee, remembering his choice of brews from earlier that morning. She also ordered two scones.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
She shrugged out of her coat before sitting on the chair he pulled out for her at a table near a window. “I just need something to take the edge off my growling stomach. The second scone is for you.”
“I don’t eat pastries from a vendor who sells in bulk.”
She pushed the second scone in front of him anyway. “Such a snob.”
He laughed. “All right. Fine. I will taste.” He bit into the thing and to his surprise it was very good. Even better with a sip or two of coffee. So tasty he ate the whole darned thing.
“Not quite the pastry snob anymore, are you?”
He sat back. He truly did not intend to pursue her. He respected her dreams, the way he respected his own. But that didn’t stop his feelings for her. With his belly full of coffee and scone, and Daniella happy beside him, these quiet minutes suddenly felt like spun gold.
She glanced around. “I’ll bet you’ve brought a woman or two here.”
That broke the spell. “What?” He laughed as he shifted uncomfortably on his chair. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re familiar with this coffeehouse. This street. You were even alert enough to pull me out of the way of the oncoming stroller at that baby shop.” She shrugged. “You might not have come here precisely, but you’ve brought women to Rome.”
“Every Italian man brings women to Rome.” He toyed with his now-empty mug. He’d lived with Kamila just down the street. He’d dreamed of babies like the little girl in the stroller.
“I told you about Paul. I think you need to tell me about one of your women to even the score.”
“You make me sound like I dated an army.”
She tossed him an assessing look. “You might have.”
Not about to lie, he drew a long breath and said, “There were many.”
She grimaced. “Just pick one.”
“Okay. How about Lisette?”
She put her elbow on the table, her eyes keen with interest. “Sounds French.”
“She was.”
“Ah.”
“I met her when she was traveling through Italy...” But even as he spoke, he remembered that she was more driven than he was. He had taken second place to her career. At the time he hadn’t minded, but remembering the situation correctly, he didn’t feel bad about that breakup.
“So what happened?”
He waved a hand. “Nothing. She was just very married to her career.”
“Like you?”
He laughed. “Two peas in a pod. But essentially we didn’t have time for each other.”
“You miss her?”
“No.” He glanced up. “Honestly, I don’t miss any of the women who came into and walked out of my life.”
But he had missed Kamila and he would miss Dani if she left. He’d miss her insights at the restaurant and the way she made Mancini’s come alive. But most of all he’d miss her smile. Miss the way she made him feel.
The unspoken truth sat between them. Their gazes caught, then clung. That was the problem with Dani. He felt for her the same things he had felt with Kamila. Except stronger. The emotions that raced through him had nothing to do with affairs, and everything to do with the kind of commitment he swore he’d never make again. That was why he’d worked so hard to figure out a way they could be together. It was why he also worked so hard to steer them away from a commitment. This woman, this Dani, was everything Kamila had been...and more.
And it only highlighted why he needed to be free.
He cleared his throat. “There was a woman.”
Dani perked up.
“Kamila.” He toyed with his mug again, realizing he was telling her about Kamila as much to remind himself as to explain to Dani. “She was sunshine when she was happy and a holy terror when she was not.”
Dani laughed. “Sounds exciting.”
He caught her gaze again. “It was perfect.”
Her eyes softened with understanding. “Oh.”
“You wonder how I know I’m not made for a relationship? Kamila taught me. First, she drew me away from my dream. To please her, I turned down apprenticeships. I took a permanent job as a sous-chef. I gave up the idea of being renowned and settled for being happy.” Though it hurt, he held her gaze. “We talked about marriage. We talked about kids. And one day I came home from work and discovered her things were gone. She was gone. I’d given up everything for her and the life I thought I wanted, and she left without so much as an explanation of why.”